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  And even if Dame was the perfect man for me, I was not perfect for him. I wasn't who I had been portraying myself to be. He knew the well put together, secure Tempest. He had no idea of the beast that was underneath my clothes. And since I had never revealed that girl to him, I preferred to let him continue to look at me in the false light that he was.

  I had hired him to do the pretending, but I was pretending too.

  As I returned to my office chair, however, I leaned back and raised my skirt. I then closed my eyes while my fingers reached between my thighs and found my throbbing center. I began to caress it, picturing Dame in that suit as I started to rub it in slow but aggressive circles. I then imagined him walking into my office in that suit and closing the door behind him. I imagined that he was perfect for me, and I for him. In my fantasy, he was surprising me, his woman, at the office. I felt my heart rate increase as I imagined him coming behind my desk and kneeling before me.

  “Mmmm,” I moaned aloud as my fantasy played out.

  He aggressively pushed my legs open and lifted them onto his broad shoulders. His biceps bulged through the suit jacket as his arms flexed while bracing himself on his hands and knees. He reached an arm around my thigh and snatched my panties to the side.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  And when I did, he kept eye contact with me as his tongue slammed into me. I gasped in pure pleasure.

  He began to suck on my clitoris, and I struggled to breathe. He gripped my ass cheeks and started to rotate my pelvis against his oral lovemaking. I felt myself cream as he moaned, as if the taste of me was so damn sweet.

  “Mmmm. Give me everything,” he demanded with a mouthful.

  My body started to buck, but he did not allow me to fall out of his mouth. I gyrated against his eager, soft, wet mouth, encouraging my orgasm to flo—

  “Oooooo, shiiiit!” I forced myself to be quiet as my eyes sprang open. “Arrrgh!” I was cumming so hard just from the thought of him.

  I allowed the rest of the orgasm to explode, rubbing it out. Then, with bated breath, I pulled my skirt down and hobbled towards the door, opening it.

  “Oh!” I gasped, surprised to see someone standing there. It was the front desk receptionist, Sarah, an older white woman who had come out of retirement to make ends meet.

  “Your one o’clock appointment is here. I know he’s early,” Sarah told me. “He excused himself to the bathroom. Should I bring him back once he returns, or should he wait until his scheduled time?”

  As Sarah waited for an answer, she eyed my frazzled state curiously.

  I forced a smile, though I was still attempting to catch my breath. “Thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets back.”

  “Are you okay?” she inquired with a slight squint.

  “Y-yes,” I stuttered, still reeling from the orgasm. I pressed, “I’m fine. Send him in.”

  To avoid her curiosity, I hurried away from the door, shaming myself and giggling at how hard I had cum from just the mere thought of Dame.

  As I sat and prepared for the interviewee to come in, I noticed my phone vibrating.

  I quickly picked it up, and when I saw that it was Dame, I looked around, shamefully, as if he was there and had watched me masturbate to a fantasy of him.

  I tried to push past my nerves and sound normal as I answered, “Hello?”

  “Hey.” Surprisingly, Dame sounded timid and unsure.

  “Hey. You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeaaa,” he answered, but his response was slow and careful.

  “What’s up?” I pressed.

  “You.”

  My heart started to beat like bass. “Me? Wh-what about me?”

  “Let me take you out on a real date, nothing pretend.”

  My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out because I kept picturing myself having to explain my monstrous scars to this flawless man.

  Before I could come up with an answer, he went on, “I know this is business, and we shouldn’t complicate it with the personal, but I wanna get to know you outside of the arrangement.”

  I bit my lip, my insecurities overtaking the lust and attraction that I felt for him. “Dame…”

  “I like you,” he pressed.

  His confession consumed me with too much pressure that I couldn’t handle. I was speechless.

  “C’mon, Tempest. I know you feel the chemistry between us.”

  “I do,” I confessed. And confessing that was scary as hell. Having to reveal myself to him during some impersonal fuck session was one stressful thought, but exposing myself to another man that I shared genuine feelings for was far beyond what I could take at the moment. “But this—”

  “This is just business,” he said, finishing thoughts that I knew weren’t what I was really feeling.

  “It is,” I cringed, wishing I could have been braver.

  I knew I wanted more. Before his call, I had wanted him all over me. But, now that he had admitted to feeling the same chemistry I had, I began to wonder about our possibilities. We were totally different, but these opposites were attracting passionately.

  “Ah ight.” The disappointment in his deep rumble was so painfully evident.

  “I’m sorry, D—” My words halted when I realized the line had gone dead.

  Maya Bradford

  I sat up when the door opened and a nurse appeared. I eagerly anticipated what name she would call.

  “Bernadette Sampson.”

  I sat back with regret, groaning.

  “This shit is going to take all day,” I complained.

  Keisha shrugged. “It always does.”

  I was at the clinic… finally. Only because Kiesha had been able to loan me some money. I had been there since eight that morning. Two hours later, I was still waiting. My stomach was growling, but I had no appetite. I couldn’t believe that I was there, but it had to be done, especially if I wanted anything close to my family back.

  If it was not apparent that I had made a huge mistake when G walked out on me two weeks ago, it was definitely apparent now. I had been bored and irritated with the fifteen-year-long routine of being the wifey of a dope boy. I was tired of the court appearances, tired of running to the hospital, scared that he wouldn’t survive the shooting this time. To me, it wasn’t worth it because we weren’t riding in Porsches or Range Rovers. I had let the promises of that from a man, who didn’t love me nearly as much as Dame did, turn my back on my family. Me and Dame may not have been in love, but we were truly family. He would have never hurt me or abandoned me. And now I had turned his heart so cold that he was doing just that. I had lost all trust and esteem with Dame. He now looked at me differently.

  Sitting in that waiting room, I would have been thrilled to be in me and Dame’s home, alone at two in the morning for the fourth night in a row because he was out in the streets, making money to take care of me and our children.

  But if I couldn’t have Dame, I would gladly take his kindness because I had gotten a rude awakening that the grass surely was not greener on the other side.

  Hell, it wasn’t even fertilized.

  “Thank you for loaning me the money to do this,” I told Kiesha.

  She sucked her teeth, while waving my gratitude off. “Girl, it's okay. We all need some help sometimes.”

  “Yea, but I shouldn’t be in this position.”

  Kiesha shrugged. “Shit happens.”

  Shame consumed me. “No, I happened. I did this to myself.”

  Keisha gave me her sympathetic eyes and laid a comforting hand on my knee. “You’re going to be okay, girl.”

  Tears stung my eyes. “I don’t think I will.”

  “Yes, you will.” As I shook my head, she pressed, “Because you are going to get your man back.”

  “How?”

  A vindictive smile spread across her face slowly. “Get kicked out. Duuuh.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t pay the rent,” she answered as if I should have already known.
“Dame would never let you take the kids to someone else’s house, and he loves his kids too much to let them be homeless. He would never separate them from you.” She sat back in her seat and crossed her legs with a smile as she dusted her hands off proudly. “Problem solved.”

  Chapter 9

  Tempest Murphy

  It was very early on a Saturday morning. It was nearing ten o’clock, but, to me, that was too early to be awake on the weekend. I usually liked to sleep, at least, until noon when I was off, but that day, I had to get started early because my mother’s birthday party at her home was later that evening. She was turning forty-five. Even though this wasn’t a milestone birthday, she was known for the big birthday parties that she had thrown every year since she married Amaechi.

  Before getting out of bed, I called Dame. I chewed on my bottom lip, nervously waiting for him to answer.

  For the past three months, our communication had been strictly business. I sensed the offense that he felt from me rejecting his offer to take me out. I had purposely kept my distance because I felt guilty for hurting him and was too ashamed to tell him the real reason why I had said no. We hadn’t seen each other since he’d met my family. I had accompanied my mother alone during all the wedding planning, while filling her with fake details of my perfect man and our perfect relationship.

  “Hello?” Dame answered dryly. Despite his stoic tone, the sound of his voice was still soothing to my ears.

  Though I had ran away from his advances, knowing that he liked me and felt our chemistry too had only made me lust for him more and obsess over our potential over the last three months.

  Yet, no matter how much my interest for him grew, it wasn’t big enough to push me to shed my covering and be vulnerable. I couldn’t expose myself in front of yet another man who had the capability of rejecting me because of who I really was underneath my clothes.

  “Hi. I just wanted to make sure you were still coming to my mother’s birthday party tonight.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I rolled my eyes at how specific and short he was being.

  “I can get you an outfit for the party.”

  He chuckled, but it was full of sarcasm. “I know how to dress for the occasion, Tempest. I’m a grown-ass man.”

  “O-okay,” I stuttered.

  I was stuck in the silence, wanting to say more, wondering if I should, or if it even mattered.

  However, as I contemplated, he ended the call. “I’ll see you later.”

  The line went dead. He’d hung up. I sighed, looking up at the ceiling as my feelings rode an emotional roller coaster.

  I knew that I had to get out of my bed. I needed to get to my mother’s house so I could help set up for the party. So, I forced myself to push past my reeling emotions.

  Before getting out of bed, however, I checked all of my social media pages. I first went to Instagram. Most of the people I followed were YouTubers who specialized in natural hair care products. Fortunately for me, there were very few African American YouTubers who focused solely on natural skincare. That meant that my competition would be minimal.

  Outside of YouTubers, I followed very few people, just a few friends, and some celebrities. Therefore, Derrick’s post was the first I had seen when I got to my newsfeed.

  I squinted, forcing myself to see past my sleepy delirium, but my heart knew what I was very well seeing. The picture of Derrick and this beautiful woman was evidently intimate. Derrick and this woman were at an event, impeccably dressed. She was facing him while looking back towards the camera with her arms wrapped around his neck. His arms were snuggly around her waist.

  The caption read: New beginnings.

  Even though it had been months since our breakup, my insecurities caused my heart to break anyway. I shouldn’t have, but I read the comments underneath the post. All thirty of them were from people congratulating him on his new relationship and how pretty this woman was. There was also a comment from a woman that was simply the emoji of a couple with a heart. I knew it had been left by her, his new love interest.

  Of course, like the typical snooping female, I went to her page. It was public. So, for thirty minutes, I attentively scanned her page. Pictures of them dated back to four months ago. The captions, however, slowly changed from general to personal and loving.

  My eyes teared up as I had to force myself to agree that she was indeed beautiful. She was perfect. And she looked like a doll on his arm.

  Derrick had kept our relationship and engagement off of social media, claiming that he preferred privacy, which was why I had as well. Yet, evidently, that had been a lie. Clearly, what he had wanted to be private about was his involvement with a beast.

  I smiled as my mother glided towards me, dancing to the jazz that the live band was playing in her backyard. The party had been going for about two hours. The backyard was filled with her and Amaechi’s friends and family.

  As my mother came closer, I recognized the glassy look in her eyes.

  She was lit.

  “Gosh, Tempest. Aren’t you hot?” my mother asked as she eyed the belted, long-sleeved linen jumpsuit I was wearing.

  Even though it was mid-June and a humid eighty degrees in the backyard, I had covered my scars with cool linen. I wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. Amaechi’s family had always looked at me as if I were a charity case to be pitied. I didn’t need them gawking, in addition to images of Derrick and his new, perfect boo dancing in my head.

  “No,” I ensured her.

  I must not have been that assuring though because she looked at me with pity. “Who cares what people think,” she tried to convince me softly.

  I grimaced inwardly. She had been telling me that for years. However, she did not have to walk around with these disfigurements. I did.

  She wasn’t so drunk that she didn’t notice the sudden uncomfortable look in her daughter’s face. She tried to ease it, saying, “You look nice, though.”

  I forced a smile. “Thank you.”

  Just then, Dame appeared with our drinks. Looking behind him, I saw the lust-filled eyes of many of the older women behind him. I chuckled to myself because I agreed with their sexual desires for him.

  “Hiiiii, son-in-law,” my mother sang to him as he stepped into our circle and passed me my drink. Before I could take it, my mother had thrown an arm around his shoulder.

  I giggled, shaking my head.

  “Thank you,” she told him.

  “For what?”

  Still with her arm around him, my mother smiled up into his eyes. “For making my baby so happy.”

  “Well, I should be thanking you for allowing me to marry such a perfect woman.”

  My stomach turned, but my mother swooned.

  “Gosh!” she cheesed. “Why is he so perfect, Tempest?!”

  I giggled past the guilt boiling in my gut. “I don’t know, mama. I’m just lucky, I guess.”

  “Yea, you are.” Then she gasped as if something had just come to her. She let go of Dame and grabbed my hand. “Come here. I want you to try on something for the wedding.”

  My head tilted, and I jokingly smirked. “Right now, mama?”

  “Yes, right now. We only have a few more months. C’mon.”

  Because she was drunk, I went ahead and obliged.

  “I’ll be right back,” I managed to tell Dame as she pulled me away.

  I was actually grateful to be away from Dame because, being there with him while those pictures of Derrick and his new boo danced in my head, was suffocating.

  “Oooo,” my mother squealed as she pulled me through the crowd of guests alongside her. “I like him. He reminds me of your dad. Strong, a lil gangsta. Rough around the edges.”

  I simply smiled in agreement. Despite the awkwardness between us, all day, Dame had been his usual perfect self. His acting was superb. However, that day, it was hard for me to play along because having to pretend to be in a happy relationship while my ex-fiancé actually was, was heartbre
aking and humiliating. Had I not been sure that Dame and I should remain strictly business before, I definitely was as I followed my mother through the back door and into her home. As she led me to her bedroom, speaking to her party’s attendees along the way, I shook off any attraction that I had for Dame because my inability to deal with what entailed him truly getting to know me was stronger.

  Finally at her bedroom, I watched her questionably as she pulled me in and shut the door.

  “So,” my mother said with a smile, clasping her hands together right in front of it. I couldn’t understand why she had suddenly become so anxious. “I have something for you.”

  “What?” I asked cautiously.

  My eyes followed her as she pranced into her closet. It was truly eerie how giddy my mother had been since my “engagement”.

  “I had gotten this years ago. You were about nine,” I heard her say amongst some rambling. “Me and your father were supposed to get married, but we could never save up the money for the ceremony.” She was rambling so fast and excitedly that I could barely keep up. “But I had gotten this dress. I’m hoping that you will wear it, if not in your ceremony, at the reception.”

  When she emerged from the closet, she was holding a garment bag, unzipping it with the purest smile on her face.

  She pulled out a white dress. She handed it over to me, hopeful. She even added with a grin, “It even has sleeves.”

  I teared up for many reasons. This was the dress that she was supposed to marry the first man that I had fallen in love with in. She had even said that my father was the first man that she had fallen in love with, too, since her father had not been in her life. However, tears stung my eyes as I realized that her joy was so pure, when my intentions were so fraud.